


Tyranny Gains Ahold

by elyus



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: F/M, a lot of Milton references and edginess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyus/pseuds/elyus
Summary: And he led her...her face a gentle smile of confusion, never hearing, seeing, feeling…to Glory.In the light of the real sun, he laughed and felt that he would live forever.If he could not have what was real, he shall have his rule.A character study of William inspired by Milton's Satan.





	Tyranny Gains Ahold

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss.”

― John Milton, Paradise Lost

 

First night under cold stars, he barely slept.

The fire grew faint, casting shadows on the rocks. He saw the outline of the fucking bastard, as horse and rider disappeared into the dunes. Face bloodied and mouth curling with dark hilarity:

_You pretend to be this weak, moralizing little asshole, but, really, you're a fucking piece of work._

The fire died. There was redness on the horizon.

He lay there thinking that there was nothing remotely real about this world, save for maybe the sun and stars. Every rock, every blade of grass, was as contrived as the phony love story they made him believe.

And yet, it felt good, the stinging sensation. The buzz in the brain when the bullet tore the flesh…just a little. The weapon in his hand so natural that it may as well been part of him.

But in that world out there, his heart never raced. His words ever so false, and his thoughts never skipping a beat…

That world out there was wrong.

And for the first time since he felt lost, felt loss, he felt that all was not lost.

 

He did try at first.  

Each day he saw her, she seemed more real than the last.

New technologies were reflected in the grace of her movement. Updates shone through the loveliness of her smile.

When their wandering eyes met, hers would glow with the delight of no recollection.

_Good day, sir. What brings you to these parts?_

And he learned to loathe her.

Eventually he went.

There were killings to be done in these parts, time and others.

Which way he went was hell, and hell was in him.

 

It was quaint, the white dresses, champagne in the garden. The sun glowing a warm yellow haze, in this afternoon of reserved laughter. Like all things out there, they felt fake and soft and familiar.  

It wasn’t until the kid ran toward her, when he felt a pang, of nuisance.

There she sat quietly in her dress and shoes of white, eyes the perfect shade of ignorance. She sat quietly and did not hear, or see, or touch, or feel. She sat quietly while they talked, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered where did her thoughts go, before he realized that there was never a thought to begin with at all.

Somewhere beyond the trimmed garden bushes was the poor bastard lurking ( _you weak, moralizing little asshole_ ), shooting some new synthetic up his veins and getting wasted before three.

Though in the evening, he saw her walking towards the lights. They were quite something. But they were also far away.

He kissed his love, and thought of nothing.

 

He walked through the main street of Sweetwater. Sometimes there were children playing, and other times it was littered with corpses. Years after years, the horrors grew mild, the darkness light. It was merely the shopfront, the waiting room of something else to come.

They walked through the street in plain clothes, and the old man took a seat and listened.

_When my son invested in this place, (you’re a fucking piece of work) he believed in the future._

But the world was now his playground.

The victory was almost sickening.

In the dim light of the maintenance floor, he wondered if he’ll ever grow tired of chasing across plains made by land fill and putting lead in the heads of things pretending to be men.

This world was his to make or break now. But he wanted something else.

Under this cold light, he studied her, like a connoisseur admiring the first among his collection.

Of all those who wouldn’t understand or appreciate the beauty, he thought she ought to see.

And he led her...her face a gentle smile of confusion, never hearing, seeing, feeling…to Glory. ( _Have you ever seen anything so full of splendor?_ )

In the light of the real sun, he laughed and felt that he would live forever.

If he could not have what was real, he shall have his rule.

Yet when he looked back, he saw she was laughing too.

_Awake, arise, or be for ever fall’n._

Then perhaps another thousand dawns and dark descended, and it was the beginning of the end of his life (For a new God will walk. One that will never die).


End file.
